


Maybe

by jellybeany



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, I'll add more tags as i go, M/M, Swearing, slow burn?, terrible communication skills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-07 14:31:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellybeany/pseuds/jellybeany
Summary: “I said I don’t need a wingman,” Dex snaps. Nursey snorts, face buried in his phone. That’s just what Derek Nurse does - check Twitter, update Instagram, ruin Dex’s life.





	1. Wingman

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my first fic. I hope you like it. Sorry in advance for all the swearing.

If you found yourself on this street on a Saturday night, it’d take you twice the time to walk down it. You’d have to wind your way around the swarm of drunken students, making sure not to slip on a stray solo cup. You’d feel the music before you heard it - vibrations blasting from giant speakers and pushing against your body with the force of a storm wind. In fact, it’d be surprising if you could hear the music at all over the general roar of 6ft hockey players having the time of their lives. Usually Dex would be roaring along with them, letting loose as much as he ever does. Which is to say, not very loose. He’ll get buzzed, and he’ll even get pretty schwasted, but alcohol doesn’t open him up like it does some other people.

 

Tonight William Poindexter is neither buzzed nor schwasted: he’s stone cold sober and stone cold starving. According to the group text there’s an apple pie up for grabs, and everybody else seems to be in class so Dex has a good chance of getting it while it’s hot.

 

It’s Thursday evening, so the street is quiet. Dusk is settling, the color of the sky beginning to match the sidewalk. Dex can see several lights are on in the Haus. Going to the Haus always feels like coming home, even though it’s nothing like his parent’s house in Maine, and Dex’s mom has never baked a pie in her life. The best part of being at the Haus, in his opinion, is just being there. Hanging out. Kegsters are a riot, what with the singing and the dancing and the yelling. But nobody’s talking - everybody’s trying to show off, or hook up. That’s what the team is known for on campus. Well, that and playing hockey.

 

He trudges up the grass, and almost presses the doorbell out of habit.  _You really don’t have to,_ Bitty had said kindly after the third time he’d opened the door to a sheepish Dex standing awkwardly on the front step.  _You can let yourself in anytime. You’re welcome here._

 

So he does let himself in this time, and the warmth of the Haus envelops him like a hug. Bitty’s playing some kind of pop from the tinny speakers in the kitchen, and it sounds like Lardo is moving around upstairs. Dex drops his bag in the hall and kicks off his sneakers. The living room is empty, so he makes himself comfortable.

 

* * *

 

One hour and three slices of pie later, Derek Nurse comes tumbling into the Haus. God, even if he stood still he’d be disturbing the quiet. There’s something about him, Dex thinks, but he’s never been quite sure what it is. Derek Nurse isn’t even the biggest guy on the team, and he’s not that loud. Well yeah, Nursey’s loud, but he doesn’t boom like Holster. Holster only has one volume setting, and it’s ‘megaphone’.

 

“Sup,” Nursey grunts, eyes glued to his phone. He falls into an armchair, his body loose but his mind clearly in concentration.

 

“Angry Birds?”

 

“Tinder,” Nursey replies, thumb still swiping.

 

_Typical. What does he even need Tinder for? He just has to walk up to a girl and they’ll be all over him._

 

“Are you like, looking for dates?” Dex asks.

 

“It’s a dating app, Poindexter.”

 

Dex is suddenly infuriated. Of course he knows what Tinder is. Everybody’s got Tinder. Well, Dex hasn’t got Tinder. He’s never downloaded the app, because, well. It’s one thing talking to girls with the artificial confidence that you get from Shitty’s infamous tub juice. Online dating is a whole other thing.

 

“Didn’t you hook up at the kegster last week?”

 

Nursey briefly stops swiping and raises his eyebrows pointedly at Dex.

 

“Yeah, so?”

 

“So, are you dating these girls, or just fucking your way through as many freshmen as possible?”

 

Derek stops now, and shuts his phone off with an audible click. He leans back in the chair, arms folded. It’s a little while before he says anything, and Dex is regretting trying to talk to him in the first place.

 

“I’m sorry, is there a limit on how many girls I’m allowed to talk to now? What’s your deal, Dex? Are you actually from the 1950s? Did you come here in a fucking time machine?”

 

Dex opens his mouth to retort, but he’s steamrollered.

 

“Do you have to give a girl a promise ring before you can have sex with her or something?”

 

“I’m just asking-“

 

“Bullshit. You’re not asking, you’re judging.” Nursey’s voice is getting louder now, but he still sounds as smooth as a goddamn lounge singer. Dex is sitting forward, jaw and knuckles clenched. “Are you pissed because you can’t get laid, is that it? That’s rough dude, but it’s not my fault girls want me instead of you.”

 

He’s smirking now, that smug asshole, he knows full well he’s hit a nerve. Dex can feel himself getting red as he struggles to think of a comeback, but they’re interrupted by Ransom and Holster bursting noisily into the Haus.

 

“What is up, my precious frogs?” Holster booms at the both of them as he strides past the couch into the kitchen. Ransom jumps over the back of the couch and lands next to Dex.

 

“Nothing much,” said Nursey, still smooth as anything. “Poindexter needs you two to wingman for him.”

 

Both Dex and Ransoms heads snap towards Nursey - Dex, with absolute horror painted on his face, Ransom, with sheer delight.

 

“Like fuck I do,” Dex snarls. Holster has returned with what looks to be cold pizza, and he vaults over the couch to land on the other side of Dex.

 

“Hey, no shame in needing a wingman, bro. I couldn’t land half the chicks I get if I didn’t have my d-man by my side.”

 

Holster and Ransom fistbump behind Dex’s head.

 

“You might do better if you listened to what I said about not calling them chicks,” Ransom says. “It’s 2017, man. These are strong independent women we’re dealing with here.”

 

“Or in Dex’s case,  _not_  dealing with,” Nursey adds.

 

“So what are you looking for, man?” Ransom turns to Dex, fishing his laptop out of his bag. He looks like he’s opening some sort of spreadsheet. “Relationship, casual, one time-dealio?”

 

“I said I don’t need a wingman,” Dex snaps. Nursey snorts, face buried in his phone. That’s just what Derek Nurse does - check Twitter, update Instagram, ruin Dex’s life.

 

“So - girls, right?” says Holster, hesitantly. “You’re not looking for dudes?”

 

Dex suddenly becomes aware of every bone in his body as he goes stock still. It’s like all the air is sucked from the room. He can feel Holster, Ransom, and Nursey’s eyes on him, waiting. Waiting for Dex to answer, which for some reason he’s not doing.Ransom and Holster look nervously at each other, some kind of telepathic d-man communication going on between them.

 

“I’m not-“ Dex chokes out, not making eye contact with anyone. “I’m  **not**  looking for dudes-”

 

“It’s cool, bro. Just didn’t want to assume.”

 

“Yeah,” Ransom chimes in, a little too quickly. “We’ve been wrong about this stuff before, so it’s better to ask, you know?”

 

Dex stands up, pulse racing.

 

“Gotta go. Homework.”

 

* * *

 

The cold night air bites at Will’s nose and ears as he walks back to his dorm as fast as possible. He barely makes it to the end of the street when he hears footsteps behind him.

 

“What was that about?”

 

_It’s Nursey. Of course._

 

“What was what about,” he replies in a monotone, not slowing his pace.

 

“You know what I’m talking about, Dex.”

 

Nursey says this so softly, it catches Will totally off guard. Nursey's green eyes are staring directly into his, searching. “Look, I’m sorry I was a dick, alright? I didn’t know.”

 

_He’s sorry? When has Nurse ever been sorry for anything._

 

They’re at the bridge now, and the water rushes loudly beneath them, filling the silence.

 

“…Didn’t know what?”

 

“That you-“ Nursey exhales, then continues. “Come on, Dex, I noticed. Holtzy asked if you were gay and you freaked the fuck out and ran off.”

 

They come to a stop over the crest of the bridge, and Dex clenches his fists, feels his fingernails dig into his palms. There’s a willow tree, probably the same one that Nursey is always reading under. God, Derek Nurse always thinks he’s so fucking chill, but the truth is he never lets anything go.

 

“I- You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Dex growls.

 

Nursey visibly tenses. He leans into Dex’s space and forces eye contact. Dex feels like he’s bracing for a check. He takes a tiny step backwards, but Nursey’s got him cornered. The stone wall feels cold through his jeans.

 

“Actually, I fucking  **do**. I know what it’s like to not be able to tell anyone, and I remember what it  _feels_  like not to be able to admit it even to your fucking self.

 

I recognise the signs, dude, and that’s why I can one hundred percent tell that you’re bullshitting me right now.”

 

Dex can feel Nursey’s breath hot against his face, their mouths inches away. Nurse is serious. Dex can’t look at him. He begins to feel the sting of tears pricking behind his eyes as Nursey’s words catch up to him. He’s frozen again.

 

“You-“ Nursey’s gaze falls downwards, and his voice lowered. “You don’t have to hide, is all I’m saying.”

 

There are a million thoughts in Will’s mind, flitting around like dragonflies and he can’t catch a single one. He doesn’t know where to start. He should tell Derek that he’s not gay. He can’t be gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but,  _he’s_  not _._  He’s never kissed a guy, he doesn’t… Will plays hockey, for Christ’s sake. He doesn’t do gay things, like theatre, or, whatever it is gay guys do. Snapchat?

 

Will spend most of his mornings in a locker room full of men. He can’t help noticing guys - he’s fucking surrounded by them.Everybody looks. It’s curiosity, it’s comparing, it’s…

_Maybe, s_ ays a voice in his brain _, not everybody looks. Maybe other guys don’t have to remind themselves not to look. They just don’t look. Because they’re straight._ ****

 

Because they’re straight, and Dex…

 

What is Nurse talking about, ‘doesn’t have to hide’? Dex can’t tell anyone this. Nobody can ever know, he could never say this out loud. What  _could_ he say, that he’s, he’s-

 

He’s painfully aware of how little space there is between them. All along Dex’s arms, it’s feels like sparks are shooting off into the darkness around him. Every atom in his body is jumping around, set on fire, signalling. The two of them standing so close, it’s a thrill - like the tense rush in the last 30 seconds of a game. Dex isn’t on the ice, not skating, he’s not moving. Nursey isn’t moving either, but he’s breathing fast, biting his lip, dark eyebrows furrowed. And then he moves.

 

Nursey’s hand slides around the back of Dex’s neck, pulling him closer - just as Dex sways forward and closes the gap. Their lips meet, and it’s glorious. Dex’s fingertips curl in the grey fabric of Nursey’s sweater. He can’t think anymore, he can’t hear anything, just the drumming of his heartbeat faster and faster, a crescendo.

 

It’s hot and wet as their lips slide against each other. A burning weight forms in Dex’s chest.  _I’m kissing Derek fucking Nurse._

 

Nursey grips on tighter, his thumb grazing Dex’s earlobe. They break apart for a split second, but it’s just Nurse turning his head to a different angle, and then they’re kissing again. Deeper. A fire stirs in his gut and he wonders, anxiously, if this feels as good for Nursey as it does for him.

 

They’re kissing faster now, insistently, and Nursey is pushing closer against him. Will is almost bent back over the bridge. He moves his legs apart slightly to let Nursey’s thigh slide between them. _This is everything,_ he thinks.

 

Then somewhere, a dog barks.

 

“I should go,” Nurse says, his eyes on Dex’s mouth.

 

Before he can say anything, Nurse has disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone seems kind of straight in this chapter, but I promise it's not going to stay that way. Also I'm not from the US, so if anything sounds wrong, feel free to correct me. I hope you can leave a comment if you have time!


	2. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What even happened? Dex thinks as he sits up in bed, scrambling for a stray sweater and pulling it over his head. Nothing. A kiss. One kiss. Not even a kiss, a peck. Two seconds. Okay, four minutes. Some tongue.

“Well that was fuckin’ weird.” 

 

Ransom nods, eyes still fixed on the door Nursey slammed shut five seconds earlier. 

 

“Probably wasn’t a good idea to ask him that.” _Especially in front of Nursey_ , Ransom thinks. 

 

Holster shrugs. This gesture seems to rock the whole couch.

 

“S’not my fault if he’s got a stick up his ass. Hey, didn’t Jack say he’s a Republican?”

 

“Just ‘fiscally’ or some shit. I don’t even know. He doesn’t have a problem with Bitty, right?”

 

“If he does, then he’s got a fucking problem with me. Rans, we _should_ set him up with a guy, just to-“

 

Holster is interrupted by Bitty padding down the stairs and into the living room. He’s wearing pajamas, a cosy-looking Samwell Hoodie, and a slight frown. 

 

“Guys, I told you, I’m really not looking for anyone. I’m just, taking it slow right now.” Bitty says in a rush, cheeks faintly pink. “Yes, you both did a great job finding me a date for Winter Screw last year, and that was…um, an experience. Which I won’t forget. But, please, can you not?”

 

“Nah, Bits,” Ransom says, closing his laptop. “We weren’t talking about you, we were talking about…”

 

“…Someone else,” Holster finishes. Bitty breathes a sigh of relief and curls up in the armchair, knees hugged to his chest.

 

“Was everythin’ alright down here? Kinda thought I heard Dex and Nursey arguing again.” He pushes his hand through his golden hair and stifles a yawn. 

 

“Uh, yeah,” Ransom says, making eye contact with Holster briefly. “Hey, you get on fine with the frogs, right?” 

 

Bitty cocks his head, a little surprised.

 

“I guess so. I can’t say I know them all that well. Chowder’s a sweetheart. And Nursey can be too, when he’s not trying to rile people up.”

 

“What about Dex?”

 

“Dex? Sure, he’s…” Bitty pauses, considering his answer. “I think he’s sorta thrown by all this, you know? I don’t think he’s used to bein’ in such a close-knit team, so maybe it’s hard for him. I’m sure he’ll open up eventually.”

 

“So no-one’s giving you any trouble?” Holster asks. Bitty looks between the two of them, worry creeping onto his face.

 

“Trouble? No, why? Did something happen?”

 

“Nah, nah, nah,” Holster says, shaking his head. “Okay, yeah. Dex pulled a massive no-homo on us.” He and Ransom recount the events of the last fifteen minutes to Bitty, who keeps his hands in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie and looks more than a little pained.

 

“So Dex told you he doesn’t wanna be set up, but when I came down a minute ago I overheard y’all plannin’ to set him up with a boy anyway.”

Ransom shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Holster looks guiltily at the floor.

 

“We won’t. Swear on it, right Holtzy?”

 

“Yeah, swear. I was joking, Bits.” Bitty’s silence hangs in the air. _You were joking, but it wasn’t funny._

 

“And you just let Nursey follow him?” Bitty sighs. “What were y’all thinking! Don’t be surprised if one of ‘em turns up to practice tomorrow with a black eye!”

 

* * *

 

_That was a bad idea._

  
  
Derek Nurse tugs on his knitted beanie, pushing a few stray curls out his eyes. It’s pitch black now, but he doesn’t need to see to find the way back to his dorm - his feet are taking him there on autopilot.

 

_That was a real bad idea._

 

Truth is, it wasn’t even an idea. He wasn’t thinking. If he’d taken half a second to think about it, he would have realised that Dex would have shoved him off pretty quick.

 

_But he didn’t._

 

He didn’t push him away. God, what the hell was that? Dex had just looked so… vulnerable? William Poindexter is a fucking puzzle that Nursey is determined to solve. He’s a pinless grenade, ready to detonate at any second - at the slightest trigger. That’s what makes it so fun, tormenting him. Not that Nursey’s a bully. Dex started it. Probably.

 

If they weren’t defense partners, Nursey probably wouldn’t care. But they click on the ice, and that’s fucking worth something. Why can’t they be like that off the ice? Why does Dex have to be so pissed absolutely all the time? Where does he get the energy?

 

It was weird, seeing Dex shut up and be quiet for a moment. 

 

_He kissed back. Maybe he really is gay, then._

 

Or maybe he was just in shock. Fuck, if Shitty knew about this he’d crucify him. Nursey was duly attentive during the ‘consent’ portion of Shitty’s welcome lecture. And Ransom and Holster’s subsequent powerpoint presentation. But you can’t always ask in the moment. It wasn’t like he suddenly decided to kiss Poindexter. One second he was looking at Dex’s bright-as-anything amber eyes, and the next second, bam. All thought processing put on hold. Well, he can ask for consent next time.

 

Next time? Will there be a next time? 

 

Maybe this wasn’t even about Dex at all. See, Nursey remembers being in the closet. Being in the closet, funnily enough, really is like being in a fucking closet. Not being out at school is one thing, but when you can’t even accept yourself inside your own head? It’s like being trapped. Unable to breathe properly. The world feels smaller in all directions. You can’t connect with people for fear of being found out. Like you committed some goddamn crime. 

That would explain a lot about Dex, actually. Dex just happens to be the most un-chill guy ever in recorded human history. So if someone asks him directly, he’s not gonna be smooth about it. And he wasn’t smooth back there. He stayed silent for a full five seconds before trying to deny it. He’d probably never been asked before, being set up on a gay date isn’t really the kind of thing that happens much in hockey teams. But this is Samwell, so. 

 

That’s all Nursey meant to do. Catch up with him, say: Hey, this is Samwell. Nobody’s gonna give you shit for being gay. If someone had been there back at Andover to tell him It Gets Better, then maybe things would have been easier. Or, he might not have believed it. So maybe he can be that person for Dex, get through to him.

 

If he hadn’t fucked it by kissing him out of nowhere.

 

Nursey fumbles with his key in the lock of dorm entrance, letting the heavy door slam behind him. Once in his room, he flops down face first onto the bed. He hears a pile of books fall off his desk. Fuck picking that up. Fuck getting undressed. Fuck actually addressing the pulling feeling in the middle of your chest that comes whenever you remember Dex’s lips on yours. Fuck thinking about anything.

 

* * *

 

Will wakes up at 5:40am. Before he even opens his eyes he can feel his heartbeat in his ears. His shoulders and fingertips are tingling with cold, as the comforter has ended up at the end of the bed, twisted around his ankles somehow. 

 

The events of last night are fresh in his mind, along with a flurry of thoughts and anxieties surrounding him like a thick fog. 

 

_What even happened?_ Dex thinks as he sits up in bed, scrambling for a stray sweater and pulling it over his head. _Nothing._ _A kiss. One kiss. Not even a kiss, a peck. Two seconds. Okay, four minutes. Some tongue._

 

But why? Was that Nurse trying to piss him off again? Because even for Derek Nurse, pulling someone into a kiss is an odd tactic. Not that it was bad. In fact, it was…

 

It was just a kiss, but it was also more than a kiss. Which doesn’t make any fucking sense. When it happened, something had clicked in Will’s body. Like, _oh, this is how it’s meant to be._ But it probably meant nothing. It sure didn’t feel like nothing, but to Nurse it was probably nothing. Derek Nurse kisses people all the time. That’s why it was so good, Nurse is just experienced. And also happens to be the best looking guy Dex has ever laid eyes on. 

 

This realisation fills Dex with a sense of panic so he quickly gets up to try and busy himself. He pads his way to the bathroom, the tiles cold under his feet. When he catches his reflection in the mirror, he’s taken aback by how worried he looks. He tries to take a deep calming breath, but it comes out shaky on the exhale.

 

While he waits for the shower water to get hot, some things start to come back to him.

 

_What was it Nurse said? ‘I know what it’s like’?_

 

What the hell? There’s no way Nurse is gay. There’s no way Derek Nurse, Samwell’s resident Casanova, is gay. He can’t be. But Nurse definitely thinks _he’s_ gay, after his being totally flummoxed by Holster’s simple question. And the whole, kissing back thing. But it was so… calm. Steady. Usually being within 5 feet of his defense partner sets Dex off like one of those novelty games where you guide a metal loop around a wire, an irritating buzz whenever the two connect. Perhaps Nursey is the loop in this analogy. Jabbing at Dex just to frustrate him. But last night wasn’t like that. Nursey’s hand, firm, on the back of his neck. Holding him. And Dex just let him. Let him take over in sweet, blissful surrender. 

 

And then, he remembers with a pang to his chest, just deserting him. Leaving him with absolutely no clue as to what the hell that was. Impulse? A mistake? A well-devised long-term plan to drive Will crazy?

 

* * *

 

Three hours later, Dex is sitting at team breakfast, sandwiched between Chowder and Ransom. Nursey is sitting opposite with a pumpkin spice latte in an offensively gaudy cup. Ransom and Holster are talking loudly about their plans for the next kegster, but nobody seems to be listening too hard. Dex in particular is trying not to listen. He has to submit a self-evaluation self-reflective self-bullshit piece for his coding class next period, and that’s pretty hard to focus on when Nursey is sitting there all casual. He’s not trying to make conversation or even make eye contact, but he is _sitting there._ In his Nursey way. It’s like he’s extra casual just to make Dex look extra stressed in comparison. Yeah, he probably does it on purpose. 

 

After practice went by without a hitch, Dex figures they’re probably not going to talk about it. That’s what he hopes, at any rate.

 

“So, we’re all agreed then. Lardo is on balloons-“

 

“Helium or no?” Lardo asks through a mouthful of toast.

 

“Lardo,” says Bitty. “If you’re saying you’d trust these boys with a helium canister, I’m not sure I feel safe with you bein’ the manager of this team.”

 

“Aw, come on. If we attached enough helium balloons to the dirty old couch we could finally get rid of it by letting it float off into the sky. I know you want to.” 

 

Bitty seems to consider this for a moment. Ransom and Holster take advantage of this pause to continue their party planning.

 

“Nursey, you’re on music.”

 

“Hell yeah,” says Nursey, and in one smooth gesture, opens his arms wide and knocks half his pumpkin spice latte all over Dex’s work. 

 

“You asshole!” Dex spits, standing up and hastily moving his laptop out of the way of the steadily growing puddle. Chowder shoves some napkins towards the spill. Nursey rights his cup, but other than that is totally unfazed by his own clumsiness.

 

“Relax, Dex. You only wrote one line on that sheet of paper anyway.” 

 

“Do not,” says Dex through gritted teeth. “Do not tell me to relax.”

 

“Okay, okay, chill.”

 

There’s a split second of crystal clear silence before the sound of every chair leg scraping back as most of the Samwell Mens Hockey team rise up to pull Dex off Nursey. Quick as anything, Chowder has one wrist and Ransom has the other, so he can’t throw any punches. Bitty has his face in his hands. Nursey has both hands up in surrender, but he doesn’t look bothered. From the outside, this scene would probably show some resemblance to a renaissance painting. 

 

“Guys, this is getting ridiculous,” says Lardo firmly. “Can’t we get through one team breakfast without a fight?” Next to her, Bitty still looks concerned. That makes Dex feel a little guilty, he knows how much Bitty hates fighting. 

 

“Sorry Lardo,” Dex and Nursey say in unison. Ransom loosens his grip on Dex’s wrist. The rest of the team sit back down and resume their breakfast.

 

“I think this calls for some d-man bonding time!” Holster shouts cheerily. This statement makes Bitty looks even more worried. Ransom inhales sharply, wondering where his best friend in the world gets such absolutely terrible ideas. Nobody questions you when you’re 6”4, and to be perfectly honest that didn’t do much good for Holster’s personal development.

“Whatever, Poindexter just needs to get laid.” 

 

“Oh, are you offering!?”

 

The resulting shocked silence gives Dex space to ponder what a totally, horrendously stupid thing that was to shout in front of everybody. Dex doesn't take his eyes off Nursey, so he doesn’t catch Chowders eyebrows rising so high they get lost in his hairline. Bitty’s jaw drops, and this time it’s Ransom’s turn to put his face in his hands. 

 

Nursey stares. He doesn’t look away, and Dex doesn’t look away, so now they’re locked in a tense staredown. In lieu of answering, Nurse has decided to try and stare deep into Dex’s soul to try and figure him out. _Good luck. Even I don’t know why the fuck I said that._

 

The bell rings, and Dex is ready to hightail it out of there, but he doesn’t want to be the first to break eye contact. He has no idea what game he’s playing with Nurse, but he’s not about to lose. The rest of the team get up to leave, clattering breakfast plates and starting to chatter amongst themselves. Dex and Nursey fight all the time, so for them it’s nothing unusual.

 

Dex feels his cheeks start to heat. He swings his laptop bag over his shoulder, crumples up the coffee-stained homework paper and throws it in the trash on the way out. As he leaves he can see Ransom lean over and whisper something in Nursey’s ear. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the line spacing isn't right, but I'm not sure what to do about that.  
> Anyway, hope you liked it. :)  
> Next chapter should be more about Ransom and Holster.


	3. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I mean, hypothetically, I would kiss a guy. No big deal.”
> 
> “Adam.” he says tersely. “Do you not remember Winter Screw?”

“ _Were_ you offering to have sex with him?” Ransom asks flatly.

Nursey chokes on his unicorn frappucino with extra sprinkles. 

“Dude, what gives? When you asked if I wanted to go to Annie’s with you, I thought it was gonna be chill. Didn’t know I was gonna be grilled like this.”

“D, you’ve been overly invested in Poindexter’s sex life recently.” 

“Have not.” 

“Have so.”

“Have not! 

Nursey thinks back to breakfast. Dex’s face had never been redder. Dex is usually too slow to find a comeback to Nursey’s quips (read: digs) so he was thrown a little. He’d tried to make his face unreadable, Chill Central™. Of course he’s not been invested in Dex’s sex life. What sex life, anyway? Imagine, sex with Poindexter. God, what would _that_ be like? Dex’s skin would probably go even more red. Ha. Match the color of his hair. Ha ha. 

Uh oh. Ransoms looking at him, unsmiling.

“Can you please be honest with him? If you’re just trying to piss him off, stop. It’s not good for the team.”

“I’m not _trying_ to piss him off…what do you mean be honest with him? Do you think I’m like, pulling pigtails?”

“Aren’t you?”

Nursey can feel himself flushing. He hides his face behind his cup and sinks down into his chair.  

“Look, I… have no fucking idea, Ransom. There. That’s me being honest.”

This seems to placate him, and they sit in silence for a while.

When they leave, Ransom squares up to Nursey, shoulder to shoulder, and says firmly:

“Don’t lead him on.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“So what’d you say to Nursey earlier?” Holster pulls his shirt off one-handed and attempts to slam dunk his laundry into the hamper on the other side of their shared attic room. The pile of clothes hits the wall and bursts like a firework, if fireworks were made of old socks instead of gunpowder. 

“Huh?” 

“What’d you say to Nursey at breakfast? You know, after Dex’s whole debacle.” Holster reclines on the creaky bottom bunk, which actually belongs to Ransom. He folds his arms behind his head and continues. “I think Nursey’s got it right, honestly. Dex needs to have sex. Hey, that rhymes.” He mouths some other words ending in ‘-ex’, trying to come up with a chant of some kind. Ransom shuts his heavy bio textbook and switches off the desk light with a sigh. 

“Well, it’s probably pretty hard for him.”

“‘Cause he’s a ginger? Ouch, Rans. He’s still on the hockey team, bitches love sports.”

Ransom pinches his temple and swivels the desk chair to face Holster.  

“No, that’s not what I meant. And remind me to fine you one for sexist language.” Holster laughs. “Come on, are you seriously not connecting the dots here?”

“No?” Holster makes a face, still laying casually on the bed. “You didn’t even answer my question, you never told me what you said to Nursey.”

_None of your business,_ Ransom wants to say. But he doesn’t. There’s a general illusion amongst the team that Holster and Ransom, RansomandHolster, are in fact one person and share everything. And sure, they do display some s’wawesome d-man telepathy both on the ice. But they’re separate people, _different_ people, and Ransom is beginning to suspect that maybe they don’t feel the same way about certain things.

It was because of this growing suspicion that he hadn’t told Holster about seeing Nursey at a particular event earlier in the semester. Ransom had just gotten out of a lecture, and was accidentally-on-purpose passing through the area where he happened to know an LGBTQ social was being held. In the middle of the crowd, easily chatting to a short girl with cerulean hair, was Nursey. His and Nursey’s eyes met briefly. He didn’t ask, and Nursey didn’t tell. Maybe he was just there in support; it wasn’t Ransoms business. And it certainly wasn’t Holsters. 

A lot of things aren’t Holster’s business, but he always has a loud opinion regardless. Sometimes Ransom has to keep him informed as a sort of gossip damage control.

 

“You don’t think Dex is gay? You don’t think that’s the reason why he’s acting all weird?” Ransom says. _And you don’t think he’s got it bad for Nursey, even if he doesn’t know it himself?_

Holster raises his eyebrows and props himself up on his elbows. 

“What? Fuck no, Rans, you’ve got it all wrong. Dex is like, run-of-the-mill homophobe.”

Take me for example. Hell, I’m comfortable in my masculinity, I’d kiss a dude.”

Ransom bristles. _Great, gender math. It’s alright to kiss a dude, as long as you have enough masculinity points to compensate._ He’s reminded of something that he’s been desperately trying not to stew about. There’s never a good time to bring it up, but the longer he leaves it, the more painfully awkward it’s going to be.

“What do you mean, you would kiss a dude?” Ransom says icily. 

Holster shrugs, blasé. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and ducks to avoid banging his head yet again on the upper bunk. He’s in gray sweatpants, Ransom is still in black jeans and a t-shirt. 

  
“I mean, hypothetically, I would kiss a guy. No big deal.”

“Adam.” he says tersely. “Do you not remember Winter Screw?”

Holster looks at him, confused. Eventually, something begins to dawn on him, and he erupts in raucous laughter. Ransom becomes conscious of just how loud they’ve been talking, and just who in the Haus might be listening to their conversation.

“Ha! Did I mack on a dude? Swear to God, bro, I do not remember one _second_ of Winter Screw. Well, that’s not true, I remember up to the third round of jello shots. And I remember waking up half naked on the floor of the attic. Hell, who was the poor guy?”

 

Ransom could have this conversation. He could talk about his emotions like a mature adult. 

Or, he could get up, walk straight out of the Haus, and keep walking. And then walk some more. He doesn’t even hear Holster asking where the fuck he’s going, he’s too busy walking. One foot in front of the other.  

He knows he can’t avoid it forever.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to write anything other than a series of conversations. :')  
> I wrote more, but it didn't seem to fit into this chapter. I'm updating weekly!


	4. Winter Screw, Part 1

Leaving his phone placed precariously on top of the hand-drier, Eric Bittle straightens his bowtie and pulls down the cuffs of his suit jacket. It was time to get back out there. Hiding in the mens room isn’t a good long-term strategy if your date is also a man.

Oscar had sounded great on paper: dark hair, 5”8, cheekbones that could cut glass (according to Ransom, who only needed to look in the mirror to see perfect cheekbones). But the reality? Bitty had overheard him telling Lardo that being an art major was “a piece of piss” (displaying a surprising lack of self awareness considering Oscar himself was an English Lit major) and had to physically drag him away before she did him grievous bodily harm. He couldn’t even excuse it on drunkenness, because Oscar had taken one look at the drinks available and scoffed about how it was too cheap or too fruity or something. He had also refused to dance, so most of this years Winter Screw was spent trailing after him and preventing him from talking to anyone on the team, lest he refer to hockey as “just a game”.

“Oh! Jack!”

Leaning against the wall of the corridor was Jack, holding a plastic cup of punch and looking a little lost. He was looking impeccable in an indigo suit and crisp white shirt, with the top few buttons undone. He’s missing a cufflink. He also missed a spot shaving this morning. Bitty curses himself for noticing.

“Hey. Having a good time?” he asks, ice blue eyes unblinking.

“Oh,” Bitty sighs. “The worst. Absolutely awful. Totally reprehensible. How’s your night going?”

Jack shifts, surprised. He’d expected Bittle to be having a great time. Especially considering Holster and Ransom fixed him up with a date. Which is great, of course. Bittle deserves to have fun. He’d said just that to Holster when he’d been approached asking if he knew anybody who was available. They’d tried to narrow down potential dates based on Ransoms meticulous spreadsheet of criteria, but Bittle had gone beet-red and refused to answer questions about any of it. _Apparently_ , all they’d managed to squeeze out of him was that he wouldn’t mind a date who was tall, had dark hair, and liked hockey.

 _Me,_ Jack had thought instantly. _I’m all those things._

But of course that would never work. Bittle deserves somebody… whole. Somebody without 50 pounds of baggage. Somebody fun and bright and _warm,_ just like him. And anyway, Bittle wasn’t looking for someone like Jack. Plenty of people are tall and dark-haired and like hockey. That doesn’t mean anything, except that Holster and Ransom can be very annoying and he doesn’t blame Bittle for not wanting to answer their incessant questions. Jack had been the same when they’d tried to set him up with Camilla. All they’d managed to get out of him was that he wouldn’t mind a date who was shorter, had blonde hair, and liked hockey.

Dragging his thoughts back to the present, Jack put his cup down on the window ledge. At the end of the corridor was a high arched window looking out onto the frosted lawn below. Suddenly he felt awkward without anything in his hands, so he perched on the ledge. There was an old-fashioned radiator with duck egg blue paint peeling off, revealing rusted iron. He put his hands on it. _Warm._

“Jack? Are you okay?” Bitty was eyeing the candy red punch that Jack had set down.

“It’s non-alcoholic,” he reassured him. “I’m good.”

“Where’s your date?”

Jack grinned and leaned his broad shoulders back against the glass window.

“Oh, he’s probably making out with Lardo by now.” He felt a tickle in his chest as he watched Bitty’s eyes turn to saucers.

“Jack! I’m so sorry, and I thought my night was terrible,” says Bitty, and joins him on the window-ledge. “Did you say _he?_ ”

“I came with Shitty. Y’know, stag. He was too much of a coward to ask Lardo.”

Bitty’s jaw drops, and the effect is adorable. He punches Jack lightly on the bicep.

“Mr Zimmerman!” he laughs. “You had me real confused for a second there!”

“Why?”

“You know very well why. Just imagine, being Jack Zimmermans date and having the audacity to go off with somebody else. Voted number four in The Swallow’s 50 Most Beautiful, I might add!” Bitty is only so very slightly tipsy, and while he’s not slurring yet, he knows these words wouldn’t be flowing without the help of that dutch courage. He should probably finish talking now, but he can’t stop himself. “Ungrateful, I’d call it. In fact, I might go and find Shitty right now and tell him how ungrateful he is. I’m telling you, if you were my date, I’d-”

Luckily for Bitty, he's spared the embarrassment having to finish his slightly-too-honest diatribe-cum-confession, because both of their phones buzz with a succession of incoming texts.

“Ransom and Holster are back at the Haus already? I could swear I saw March and April over by the chocolate fountain five minutes ago…”

Jack takes his phone out of his pocket, but he doesn’t bother looking at the group chat. He does not care one iota what Holster and Ransom are up to. _If you were my date you’d what?_ he desperately wants to ask. But the moment is gone. As always. Jack Zimmerman, moment misser.

“Typical of them to bagsie the attic. Well, it’s not like I’m going to be needing it tonight anyway.” Bitty sighs.

“What?” says Jack, “Why would they need to bagsie the attic if their dates are here?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been so busy! i hope you liked this. this short chapter where nothing happens, haha. more drama to come next time. i wrote all of this while listening to alone - jessie ware. (edit: i fixed a load of typos)


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